Five Sisters (61 page)

They were a close family, as most families in poverty are. They depended upon one another greatly and whenever one of the girls was ill the whole house seemed to suffer just as greatly as the daughter bedridden.

Brook often returned home weary and tired, depressed at his lack of success. He'd come kneel on the floor beside Emy in her rocking chair, laying his head on her lap with a sigh and a groan. But Emy would only smile, petting his head as though he were a child and assuring him that everything would turn out alright. If it weren't for her and her unconditional optimism, Brook certainly would have given up his painting years before. But every time he suggested a change of occupation, Emy simply wouldn't hear of it. She knew that his heart still lay in art and she wouldn't let him give up no matter how much they suffered for it.

After all, no matter how difficult their life was, no matter how shabby their dresses and how scarce their food, they had love aplenty and that was all Emy needed.

Nathaniel and Gail West

After the chilly winter months had passed and spring returned again, Nathaniel refused to stay in the Lindsey's house, under their charity, any longer. No matter how much he enjoyed their company and their lovely home, his pride was so badly damaged by that point he knew he had to get away. But although he packed up his things and began renting a room at an inn in Brighton, he spent nearly every hour of his day at the Lindsey's anyway. Where else was he to go?

He was definitely not going to go to school; haughty professors would only have infuriated him and what was the point of learning useless information if he didn't want, and didn't need, a job? His parents would always keep sending him another check each month, money was no difficulty, and he had no desire for random knowledge. And he really didn't have any other acquaintances in town to visit besides Gail.

So everyday, as soon as he awoke, he paid a hack to be outside his door and it took him to the Lindsey's for the entirety of the day. He and Gail spent their time as they always had before, playing card and board games, talking, arguing,
taking
walks around the countryside- in his wheelchair, of course. The only change in their relationship was, now that they had confessed their feelings for one another, the occasional kiss would occur when the two were alone. They were always long and always impassioned, but Nathaniel refused to relinquish his temper, even for Gail, so they were never terribly sweet or sentimental. But they justified the pair's unconventional courtship just the same. Usually Nathaniel didn't head back to the inn until well after dusk.

About three years after that Christmas, once Gail was eighteen and, Nathaniel thought, matured enough for the question, he decided to ask her to marry him. Besides the fact that it seemed rather sensible after three years of courtship for him to propose marriage, he'd been dreaming of marrying Gail for months. It was admittedly a romantic, tender thought that he chose to keep secret, but Nathaniel wanted Gail. He wanted to be able to call her his wife. He wanted to hold her in his arms each night. He wanted it to say, on legal documentation, that she was his and that she'd loved him and that, in a sense, he hadn't been a complete failure of a life. And because he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he didn't see why he should wait any longer. By this time, she was certainly ready for the role. And, in his eyes, if they delayed the event for too long he might be in his grave before it occurred.

Three weeks before Christmas Gail decided she wanted to take Nathaniel ice-skating. They bundled up in their warmest, headed to the pond in town, and joined the throngs of people already skating around the rim of the ice.

Gail wore ice blades attached with buckles to her boots and pushed Nathaniel around the pond in an "ice-chair," an invention constructed of a normal wooden chair with high handlebars attached to the back and runners instead of feet. It was like any other winter's day at the pond- the pale sky, the softly falling snow, the hundreds of people circling round and round. But for some reason, on this particular day, every word Gail said made Nathaniel's heart rush and every touch she placed on him made his head spin. He hadn't been planning when he ought to ask her or how he ought to do it, but suddenly, when they were mid-conversation, enjoying a laugh, he told Gail to stop, took her hand, and pulled her onto his lap.

"Marry me, Gail," he said, forcibly yet honest, his eyes sparkling.

Gail's face didn't move for a moment, she stayed perfectly calm, perfectly relaxed, and then, her voice clear, she said slowly, "Well, if it's an order . . . I suppose I have to then, don't I?"

Nathaniel only nodded.

And then Gail, taking his head in her hands, kissed him in such a way that he instantly knew he was doing the right thing. He could barely feel his legs, they seemed to have gone numb, and his fingers were shaking, though luckily not from illness this time.

Once she'd pulled away, Nathaniel saw the grin that had crossed her lips. She beamed, throwing her arms around him, and shouted joyfully, for all to hear, "Of course I'll marry you, Nathaniel!"

Only two weeks lately, after discussing the matter endlessly, Nathaniel and Gail decided to elope.

They wanted to marry quickly and they didn't want to wait any longer. But more than a desire for urgency, they decided on elopement because, in both their opinions, a wedding was a waste of lots of money they could be spending on far more wonderful things. Nathaniel, though he'd often dreamed of marriage, had never dreamed of a wedding. If Gail had been completely eager to have a wedding, he would have certainly eased to her request. But when she didn't, he knew that they oughtn't to have a wedding at all. He saw no need for one and neither did Gail.

Gail stole away from the house early in the morning, leaving a letter for John and Betsy, and met Nathaniel at the café next door to his inn. They took a hack to Clarendon, a town far enough away to justify elopement yet close enough to Brook that Gail still felt as though she were with family. All smiles and kisses, the pair headed to the courthouse and recited their vows for a judge and two random poets from the streets who acted as their witnesses. The deed was done and both were the happier for it.

Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel and Gail West headed back to Brighton where they decided to purchase a simple, redbrick house on the edge of town, where the buildings turned into hills. And although they certainly weren't like any other married couple you'll ever meet, they were as joyful as could be.

Neither worked for a living, all their money came from Nathaniel's faceless parents, so they spent their days enjoying themselves instead. As his life was indeed always very uncertain, Nathaniel wanted to experience everything he possibly could as soon as possible. He and Gail were like children, really.
Just as they'd always been.
And soon enough, they were joined by two real children.

Gail's pregnancy was rather unreal to her. She knew that she was carrying a child and that in nine months time he would arrive, but her head still hadn't wrapped around the concept of a baby.
Her baby.
Nathaniel's baby.

So when the child arrived they were both rather awestruck by its tangibility, its life, its honesty. They didn't even have a name planned. Neither had thought on it once during Gail's pregnancy, so for his first few days of life he was known only as West, in lack of something more suitable.

But finally, it was decided on that the boy should be named after his father. Nathaniel John West II. But of course Nathaniel wouldn't allow the boy to be called Nathaniel too; it would be far too confusing. They tried all sorts of variations. Junior was too childish. Nathan sounded too similar to Nathaniel, only being separated by a syllable. Nate was immediately dismissed, for Nathaniel said it sounded too close to Kate. And he could never be John or Johnny, since that was the name of John Lindsey, or Jack, which happened to be Nathaniel's father's name. Nathaniel II went for another week without a name, for nothing could be decided on, until Nathaniel settled the matter in one final swoop.

"The boy's name is Nat," he said one morning, as he rolled into the kitchen. He nodded, "I'm sure of it."

And so it was affirmed. Nat West was born.

And only a year later, he was followed by another baby boy, Michael.

They both had seamlessly straight, bright red hair and amber brown eyes, like their mother, with very pale skin and thin limbs, from their father. But their tempers were obviously an inheritance of both parents. For from the moment they arrived in the world, they were screaming.

It should be said that the raising of Nat and Michael was far different than that of most children.

Neither Nathaniel nor Gail had any experience with children and neither had thought to ask their family or friends for tips, lessons, anything that might aid their effort. And because Nathaniel didn't like to admit that he had absolutely no knowledge of a certain subject, he refused to allow Gail to call in her sisters for help. So instead, they went about the task day by day, learning only from trial and error. And although it may seem rather frightening to some, it was actually a very amusing turn of events.

Most young parents would go crazy with two screaming babies in the house: having no idea why the babies were crying, losing all their sleep in the process of finding out, changing diapers, nursing, washing them up, teaching them to use the potty, and on and on the list goes.

But Nathaniel and Gail were the rare, unbelievable exception. They were never angry or frowning or weeping their eyes out at night from the pressure of it all.
Tired, yes.
Sometimes a bit frustrated, of course. But they went about raising the two babies together and when they were together, with two wailing babies, they couldn't help but laugh. So when Nat was crying uncontrollably and Gail, nearly on the edge of exhaustion herself, tried with no success to bounce him up and down in an effort to sooth him, Nathaniel couldn't help but give a sly grin. And Gail, in turn, burst into giggles herself. And when Nathaniel was changing Michael's diaper on the bed and the baby wouldn't stop wriggling and sobbing long enough for Nathaniel to wipe
the his
bottom, causing Nathaniel to shout in anger, Gail couldn't help dissolving into laughter. And Nathaniel, seeing her smile, relinquished his own frown and chuckled along.

It was really quite a miracle Nat and Michael turned out all right; both Nathaniel and Gail were astonished at the fact. But they never would feel comfortable calling themselves parents, for they never acted as any other mother and father might do.

To Nat and Michael, they were more like friends. All four of them entered into loads of quarrels and it wasn't rare for Gail or Nathaniel to act as childish as their own sons at times. Their house was always loud, a fiery of screams and shouts and laughter. And if one saw them on the street together it would take more than a moment to distinguish who was who in this peculiar family. But if they were looked at closely enough, saw the woman place a swift kiss upon the man's cheek, saw the two teenage boys run up ahead, they'd recognize the relationships of the undeniably odd Wests. There was the invalid father with sleep in his eyes, his merry young wife, and their two, fire-haired sons.
A strange, temperamental, unconventional family, but a joyous one nevertheless.

Nathaniel's health continued to fluctuate as it always had in previous years. Some days he'd feel fine, other days he'd be bedridden and weak, and still others he'd be lying in a hospital bed looking as eerily sick as ever. There were times it seemed he'd never grow ill again, but then a relapse would occur and he'd be back in the hospital.

All this drained on Gail and her sons a bit, as it rightly should, but they bore it better than most families ever could- with laughter and smiles and kisses aplenty. Gail had learned by now not to dwell on her husband's ailment and she found the optimism to struggle through his many hospital visits. Knowing Nat and Michael were healthy, that no genes had passed on their father's mysterious disease, was a gift both Nathaniel and Gail couldn't be thankful for enough. If the first Nathaniel West had wasted his life away in a hospital, at least the second Nathaniel, Nat, would be able to live a full life, untainted by pain and misery.

I would love to tell you that Nathaniel was able to live to an elderly age, as he'd never thought was possible, and that as he grew older his illness faded away. But it didn't. And it would be a lie to say so. And because, as he told Gail numerous times, the one thing Nathaniel West could not stand was a lie, I shall not lie to you now, though I would love desperately to do so.

Near the age of thirty-eight, Nathaniel grew gravely ill again. He was sent to the hospital in Wickensville and his family joined him there, sitting by his bedside everyday. Nat was sixteen, and Michael only fifteen. They and their mother did their best to comfort Nathaniel and make him laugh, but to little avail. One last time, Nathaniel's face grew as white as snow, his eyes were rimmed in dark shadows, his fingers shook uncontrollably, and his forehead was peppered in sweat. He began to cough up blood, ghastly amounts, yet the doctors were still doing everything they possibly could to save him. The following day, he lied silently in bed. He could scarcely speak, his voice hoarse and his breath nearly gone, but his charcoal gray eyes sparkled, speaking the words his mouth never could.